


One Step Closer

by AlmyranGold



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude is an immortal, Everyone being giant dorks, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, I'm having way too much fun with this fic someone stop me, Immortality, M/M, Rated T for language, Sylvain is a terrible driver, and bad at feelings, because y'know... Immortality, no beta we die like Glenn, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmyranGold/pseuds/AlmyranGold
Summary: It's been three hundred years since Claude saw Dimitri.Maybe this time they can make it work.(Based on Turtleclaudeindulgence's immortal Claude AU!)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note: This takes place in a weird mashup of the modern world and Fodlan. Basically, picture Fodlan, but they're in 2020 and they've experienced Earth world history (specifically American, bc that's what I know best) for the past few centuries. That's why I mention things like the AIDS epidemic and World War One. Does it make sense? No. But I'd already written it before I realized that, so now you're stuck with it. 
> 
> There will probably be 8700 plot holes in this fic, but I can't be bothered with that.

Claude, like most immortals, had mixed feelings about museums.

They provided an incredibly important service, of course. Without archaeologists, historians, and museums, thousands of years of history would be lost, including history from centuries before Claude was even born. And museums helped curate public interest in the past, which helped inform the public and prevent the mistakes of the past from reoccurring.

On the other hand, they had a lot of his shit, and he had no way to prove it was his.

The History Museum of Fhirdiad in particular boasted the largest collection of artifacts from the Great War of 1180. And as one of the three biggest players in the war, much of Claude’s belongings from the time had ended up in museums. Clothes, weapons, furniture from his homes in both Deirdru and Almyra - but worst of all, his personal letters. He was reading one of them now, squinting to see his own sloppy scrawl through the fingerprint-smudged glass.

Hilda,

Hope this letter finds you safe. Sorry I took so long to reply - there’s a flu sweeping through Almyra, and three of my advisors are down for the count. It’s been crazy the last few weeks.

But congrats on your engagement! Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, but I’m happy for you nonetheless. Have you picked a date yet? I’m sure having the King of Almyra in attendance would be a great honor.

Seriously, though, it’ll be great to see everyone again. Have you heard from Raph lately? I haven’t got a letter from him in a few months, I’m starting to get worried. I mean, I’m sure I would have heard if anything too bad happened, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have been in a meat-induced coma ever since he retired.

I can’t write for long - even now, someone’s at my door with some new information about the illness. But just let me know when you set a date, and I will be there. 

Tell Mari I said hi, and Dorte too.

-King Khalid Rais Qadir of Almyra (Claude)

The little plaque above the letter informed Claude that the letter was addressed to Hilda Valentine Goneril, minor noblewoman of the Alliance and the Duke’s right-hand woman. “Mari” likely referred to Marianne von Edmund, another noblewoman of the Alliance and their mutual friend. “Dorte” was unknown; scholars speculated that he was involved in the war, possibly as a general, but he had been lost to history.

Claude chuckled. Marianne would probably have preferred Dorte to be remembered by the history books rather than her.

His eyes scanned over to the next letter in the collection. He only needed to see the letter’s addressee to know exactly what it was. The name "Margrave Gautier" was crossed out at the top. 

Sylvain,

Shit, that sucks. That really, really sucks. I don’t know what to say other than that. I’m really sorry.

At least he left you the sword, right? I know that can’t possibly compare to having him with you, but it’s something.

I’ll be at the funeral. I’ve already put it on my calendar, Rosie couldn’t stop me now if she tried. 

I know your instinct is probably to isolate yourself, but you should suppress that as best you can. Maybe you could visit Ingrid for a bit? You really don’t need to be alone right now. Hell, you could come to Almyra if you could find someone to hold down the fort in Gautier. You might burn to death, but I promise I’ll be a better host than last time.

I’ll see you at the funeral. Stay strong, my friend.

-Claude

Reading that letter never got easier, not even nine hundred years later. They’d lost a lot of people during and after the war, but that had broken Sylvain almost completely. Especially after they’d already lost - 

A familiar laugh rang in Claude’s ears.

He didn’t think much of it at first - he was just thinking of Sylvain, it made since that he’d think he heard his voice - but he turned around when he heard “Aw, c’mon, Fe!”

Goddess above, that was Sylvain, alright. Same red hair and infuriating grin as he remembered from years ago. And storming away from him was a familiar mop of dark blue hair - Felix.

Claude stood frozen for a moment, in disbelief at the coincidence. He had met several reincarnated versions of his old friends over his extended lifespan, but to look up and suddenly see them in the museum dedicated to the war they fought together? That was almost too ironic. 

Here they looked about the age they’d been when the war concluded. Claude was happy they’d found one another this life - in some instances, they’d never met. In Sylvain’s last life, he only knew Ingrid.

“Fe, wait up!” Sylvain called again, grabbing at Felix’s sleeve. Felix violently shrugged him off and kept storming through the museum. Claude wondered if it was a typical fight or just typical Felix shenanigans.

He approached Sylvain with purpose, already planning out what to say to him. Sylvain looked up at him and grinned.

“Hey there, cutie. What can I do for you?”

“You’re Sylvain, right?”

Sylvain’s grin didn’t waver, but Claude could see his eyebrows knit together. “Sure am. Do we know each other?”

“I recognize you from somewhere, I just can’t remember where.”

Sylvain thought for a moment. “Did you go to FNU?”

“Oh yeah, that’s it! We must have had a class together.” Claude technically had gone to Fhirdiad National University, just a hundred years before this Sylvain would have been there. Not that he had that degree anymore - he’d faked his death about twice since then. A necessary precaution if you didn’t want to be exposed as immortal.

“Sylvain,” Felix’s voice called. Both men turned to see him looking at another glass-encased letter. Sylvain walked over, and Claude followed, certain he knew what Felix was looking at. 

Sure enough, it was That Letter.

Ingrid,

Hope you’re doing better than me right now. We fought five years of war for what? Felix is gone, you’re stuck in a loveless marriage, and I’m stuck in this damn house desperately undoing everything my father did. And everywhere I turn, I swear I see Miklan. I know he’s been dead for years now, but I can’t unsee him.  
You know the well’s still in the backyard? Apparently Father actually took effort to have it restored before he died.

I think I’m going crazy. I miss Fe so damn much.

-Sylvain

“...What the fuck,” Sylvain said.

“Something wrong?” asked Claude.

He jumped a bit, clearly having forgotten about the other man’s presence. “Shit! You scared me. It’s just… My name’s Sylvain. I have- had a brother named Miklan. And Felix and Ingrid are friends of mine. That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“Syl. Read the plaque. It says the letter was written by Margrave Sylvain Gautier. And the Ingrid is Ingrid Galatea.” Felix looked at Sylvain, eyes wide.

“What the fuuuuck,” Sylvain said, bending over to better read the small engraving. “There’s no way.”

“That can’t be a coincidence. Is someone pranking us?”

“In a museum? I’d doubt it. There’s something more going on here, Fe.”

And well, that was just a golden opportunity for Claude, wasn’t it? 

“Would you believe me if I told you something crazy?”

Sylvain looked back at him. “Uh, sure?”

“I think that was you. In a past life.”

“You think so? Got any proof for that?”

Claude thought for a moment, then pointed at Felix. “Is your dad’s name Rodrigue?”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Felix asked, narrowing his eyes.

Claude turned and pointed to Sylvain. “And I bet your brother was a total ass?”

“That he was,” Sylvain mused. “But for real, what are you saying?”

“Maybe we could go somewhere more private to discuss this?” Claude asked.

-

A shitty diner was as good a place as any to reveal yourself as an immortal to your reincarnated friends, right?

Felix took a swig of his cola. “So you want me to believe that you’re an immortal from the year 1180?”

“Pretty crazy, I know,” Claude replied. 

“This is even crazier, but I believe you,” Sylvain said. He held his hands up when Felix glared at him. “Why would he lie to us, Fe?”

“Money? Fun? I don’t know,” Felix said.

“I’ve got plenty of money, and a lot of friends who are more fun to mess with,” Claude assured them. 

“So you knew Ingrid too, right? What about Dimitri?” Sylvain asked.

Claude’s heart jumped into his throat. “You know Dimitri?”

“Of course. We’ve been friends since childhood. Did we not know Dimitri back then?”

“No, you knew each other in our original lives, it’s just been a bit hit-or-miss on whether you meet in your new lives.”

“So you’ve known us in all our lives?”

“Not all. Sometimes I find you guys, sometimes I don’t. I haven’t seen Felix in about a hundred years.”

Felix scoffed, clearly still not buying it, but Sylvain sat forward attentively. “What were we like?”

“A hundred years ago? Or originally?”

“I don’t know. Both?”

“The same as you are now, I’d think. We were all nobles back in the day, but you know that. Felix was a soldier in World War One.”

That finally caught Felix’s attention. “Soldier?”

“Yep. You’ve been a soldier most of your lives, I think.”

“Not surprising,” Sylvain laughed. “What about me? My last life?”

“You were an accountant in the 1980s.”

Felix barked a laugh. “An accountant.”

“Aw, what? That’s so boring,” Sylvain said. “But wait, the ‘80s? Wouldn’t I still be alive?”

“You died young. Uh, AIDS, actually.”

The last time Claude had seen Sylvain, he’d been wasting away in a hospital bed, barely able to eat. The image was so opposite to the Sylvain that sat in front of Claude now - healthy, fit, alive. He decided not to provide the specifics.

Sylvain’s mouth quirked. “Oh.”

“And I’m assuming I died in the war,” Felix said.

Claude nodded. “You two aren’t the best at happy endings.”

“Well, isn’t that reassuring,” Sylvain said with a sheepish laugh.

They’d had at least one happy ending, but Claude decided to keep that to himself for now as well. He didn’t know the nature of these Sylvain and Felixs’ relationship, and he didn’t want to put any pressure on them by telling them they’d run off and gotten illegally married in the 1600s.

“You said you knew the boar. What usually happens to him?” Felix asked.

“Oh, Dimitri? Not much better.” Claude hoped he was keeping his face neutral. “I think he last died in a war, too.”

Dimitri was always the hardest to find. He’d only met two reincarnated Dimitris in almost nine hundred years, and the last time he saw him was sometime in the 1800s. That meeting had been disastrous, and the thought of meeting another Dimitri made him a bit nervous.

“I wonder how many other people you’ve met. How about Edelgard? Mercedes? Tabitha? Annette?” Sylvain said.

“Yes, yes, no, and yes.”

“Dang. Y’know, now that I think about it, it is weird that Dimitri and Edelgard just so happened to be named after two important step-siblings from a million years ago,” he chuckled.

“A thousand years. I’m not that old.”

“Are there other immortals too?” Felix asked.

“Yes, but I can’t tell you about them. We’ve got a pact.” 

Claude kept in touch with Seteth and Flayn - after all, there were a very limited number of people who wouldn’t die on him. Rhea he didn’t much care for, but they were in one another’s periphery. And then there was Byleth, who wasn’t immortal so much as an enigma. They died and were reborn, but they always retained their memory because their weird goddess powers kept resurfacing life after life. Claude had not once found a Byleth, they always found him. 

“Sounds convenient,” Felix said.

“Look, if you were immortal, you’d take measures not to get caught too. I only ever tell my old friends, like you guys.”

“We were friends in our original lives?” Sylvain popped another fry in his mouth as he spoke.

Claude nodded. “I guess you didn’t see that part of the museum. You two were part of my army. And we went to school together.”

“But weren’t you opposing Faerghus in that war? Why would we join you?” Sylvain frowned.

Claude shrugged. “There was a general you were fond of.”

“Were they hot?”

“Sylvain!” Felix hissed, elbowing his friend.

Claude laughed. “I believe that’s the reason you signed up in the first place.”

“See, Fe? It was a totally valid question,” Sylvain grinned.

“You’re insufferable.”

The waitress came over with the check, and Claude picked it up. “I’ve got this.”

“Hell yeah. An immortal dude bought me lunch,” Sylvain said.

“I’m not exactly a king anymore, but nine hundred years’ll give you time to build up some savings.”

They all stood up and prepared to leave. “Hey, Claude, you have a phone?” Sylvain asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m an immortal, not a freak.”

“Alright, alright. Here, put your number in mine. I’m assuming you’ll want to meet Dimitri and Ingrid, yeah?” 

“That sounds good,” Claude said, taking Sylvain’s phone and punching in his number. He handed it back, and Sylvain and Felix took their leave.

Claude hopped in his Jeep and took a deep breath. He was going to meet Dimitri again. No big deal. Not like he’d been Claude’s first boyfriend or anything. Not like he still had unresolved feelings from watching him die at Gronder.

You’d really think he’d be over him by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will hopefully update this sometime next week. As I said before, this is based on the immortal Claude AU by the wonderful Turtleclaudeindulgence on Instagram.
> 
> I honestly don't know how long this fic will be; probably depends on how motivated I'm feeling.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed, it always makes my day!


	2. 1

“So let me get this straight. You’re nervous because you’re meeting your reincarnated boyfriend from a thousand years ago, and you’re worried he’s going to hate you for some unspecified reason.” Hilda raised her eyebrows and sipped her soda.

“That about sums it up,” Claude said.

“God, being friends with you is weird.”

“You’re telling me. I’ve had to deal with myself for over eight hundred years.”

Hilda laughed and shook her head. “Anyways, you’re being ridiculous. If he liked you a thousand years ago, he’ll like you now, right?”

“It doesn’t quite work like that. And I’ve told you a million times I’m not a thousand yet.”

“Regardless, I really don’t think you have much to be worried about. I mean, you’re not bad-looking for your age.”

Claude laughed at that. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hilda, but it’s really not my looks I’m worried about.” 

“Ah,” Hilda nodded sagely. “You’re bad in bed.”

Claude nearly spat out the water he had been sipping. “That is NOT true,” he said, pointing a finger accusingly. “I’ll have you know I’ve been married nearly six times, so I can’t be that bad.”

“ _ Nearly  _ six times?!”

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Have I never told you that? You and I were supposed to get married in the 1600s. You left me at the altar and ran away with Marianne.”

“No way,” she laughed. 

“Yup. Holst lost his mind when he found out. I thought it was hilarious.”

“I can imagine. You never told me I’d been with Marianne before,” she said, leaning forward as she spoke.

“I tend to keep that stuff to myself unless I know two people are together in this life. It makes things kind of awkward. But you two were together in our first lives too.”

“Okay, now I’m curious. Who’s Lorenz been with?”

“Hmm. That you’d know? Let’s see. Mercedes, Marianne-”

“Ew.”

“Ignatz-”

_ “Ignatz?” _

“Twice, actually. Don’t you dare tell him that.”

Claude looked back over at the crappy reality show running on Hilda’s television. “What is this show called again?”

“Uh, The Bachelor? You’re seriously telling me you’ve never seen The Bachelor?”

“I dunno, probably? I only watch reality TV when I’m half unconscious. This is the one where the desperate women try to marry the white guy of the month, right?”

“That’s about right.”

Said white-guy-of-the-month was on a date with a woman who looked oddly familiar. Claude squinted at the screen and tried to think of who she was. It didn’t hit him until she took a giant swig of wine.

“Holy shit, that’s Manuela.”

“You know her?”

“She was our professor in our first life.”

Hilda laughed. “And now she’s wearing skimpy dresses and getting drunk on national TV. More power to her.”

“Well, that’s pretty accurate to how she was back then too.” Claude leaned back into the couch and chuckled. “Damn. I’ve found a lot of you guys this time around.”

“Maybe it’s all a circle.” Hilda flopped back as well, holding up her soda and looking at the light reflecting off it thoughtfully. “Like, we came back to our original lives, but we get to try them all over again. Fix our mistakes. And have the internet, big bonus. You get what I’m saying, right?”

“Not really?”

“Oh, shut up, Claude! Like I know how your bullshit immortal time-travel works.” She glared at him as she took another drink.

“I can’t time travel, but nice try.” Claude turned back to the TV just in time to see Manuela slap the bachelor and storm offscreen. 

“Damn straight!” Hilda cheered as the cameramen attempted to run after her. “God, I love this show.” 

“You just want to see someone get slapped, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t  _ everyone _ ?”

At that moment, his phone buzzed. He picked it up and saw he had a text from Sylvain.

_ Thotier: hey dima ingrid felix nd me r going to see a movie friday, want to come? _

_ What movie?  _ he sent back.

_ Thotier: idk, havent decided yet. somethin with swords thou. its gotta have swords in it if i want fe to come _

_ Aight, I’m down. am I meeting you there? _

_ Thotier: were getting dinner at the taco bell on second st first if u wanna meet us there at five _

_ K, see you then! _

He felt the couch shift to his left, and turned to see Hilda peering over his shoulder. “Who’s that?”

“Sylvain. We’re going to the movies with Dimitri on Friday.”

She wolf-whistled. “The movies! That’s romantic.”

“I doubt it’ll be too romantic with his three best friends there.”

“That’s quitter talk right there. Is it a horror movie? You can pretend to be scared and grab his arm.”

“I don’t think so. Also, I’m not doing that.”

“Aw, lame. You never take my advice.”

“Hilda, you once told me to break up with a girl because she mained Widowmaker in Overwatch.”

“And I stand by that. Wasn’t that the girl that cheated on you with her professor, anyways?”

“Yes, but I hardly think those things are related.”

“You can’t trust bitches who play Widowmaker. That’s a fact,” she said, raising a finger in the air.

Claude laughed. “Never change, Hilda.”

-

Claude wasn’t sure what the dress code was for “Taco Bell and a movie with your ex-boyfriend from nine hundred years ago who’s never met you along with his three childhood friends.” Surprisingly, a Google search had no real suggestions.

He didn’t want to come overdressed, so he went with his nice jeans and a Garreg Mach University shirt, but he did put on a little eyeshadow. Couldn’t hurt, right?

He just so happened to arrive at Taco Bell right as Sylvain and his friends did. He saw Ingrid crawling out of the passenger seat of a two-door Volkswagen Beetle with a pissed-off expression and pulled into the spot beside them.

“I’m remembering why I don’t get in a car with you,” he heard Ingrid gripe.

Sylvain grinned as he got out of the driver’s seat. “C’mon, Ingy, everyone speeds.”

“45 in a 25? You’re lucky you haven’t been arrested yet.”

Sylvain pulled back the seat to let Felix out of the back. “My lady,” he said with a bow.

“Fuck off,” Felix replied.

“Hey guys!” Claude called as he walked over.

“Oh, hey, Claude!” Sylvain said. “Perfect timing. See, Ingrid, we would’ve made him wait.”

“He would’ve been waiting longer if we were dead,” she grumbled.

Claude was about to reply when he saw a large figure struggling to get out of the backseat of Sylvain’s tiny car. “My foot’s stuck in the seatbelt again,” a familiar voice called.

“Literally how, ‘Mitri?” Sylvain said with a sigh, walking over and leaning into the car to help him. After a moment’s struggle, Dimitri stepped out of the car, and Claude temporarily forgot what air was.

He looked so much like he had back in 1185 - same long blonde hair, though a bit more fixed and less greasy-looking. Same broad shoulders and six inches of height on Claude. He even wore a black eye patch over his right eye.

And for a moment, Claude wasn’t standing in a dirty Taco Bell parking lot. He was back on Gronder Field, watching Dimitri’s lance direct his troops towards his army. He was staring into the eyes of the man he’d once loved and realizing that there was no more light behind them.

But as quickly as he’d slipped, he was back. This Dimitri wasn’t wearing armor and a great fur cape, he was wearing a plain blue tee shirt and sneakers. And Claude hadn’t been on the battlefield for hundreds of years.

“Dimitri, this is Claude,” he heard Sylvain say.

“Oh! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claude. Sylvain’s told me about you,” Dimitri said, extending a hand.

That solidified it in Claude’s mind - this Dimitri was not the man who had died at Gronder. This was a twenty-three year old man trying to have a normal human conversation, and Claude was staring at him like a freak.

Claude shook his hand and put on his most charming smile. “The pleasure’s all mine, Dimitri. And you’ve only heard good things, I hope.”

“Strange things, perhaps, but not bad,” Dimitri said with a slight smile - goddess, his  _ smile!  _ Claude could die happy just watching Dimitri smile. 

He was probably getting ahead of himself.

“Wow, and you’re not going to introduce me?” Ingrid asked.

“Oh, sorry. Ingrid, this is that weird immortal guy I met at the museum. Claude, you probably know Ingrid.”

Claude turned to Ingrid, willing his heart to  _ stop beating so fast, dammit.  _ “Quite a way to introduce me, Sylvain. Good to meet you, Ingrid.”

“You too, Claude. If you really are immortal, I suppose I don’t have to apologize for Sylvain. Now, let’s eat. I'm starving,” she said. 

Claude followed the others into the building, doing his best not to stare at Dimitri.  _ Nothing to see here, folks. Just five normal people, none of whom dated and subsequently warred against one another in their past lives. Nope. _

By the time he got inside, Ingrid was already at the counter, apparently ordering the entire menu. The poor girl behind the counter had clearly worked there for all of a day, and she was rapidly punching buttons on the cash register with a bewildered expression.

“Why are we even eating at Taco Bell? Nothing is good here since they got rid of the meximelt,” Felix said. 

“Ingrid said she got to pick the restaurant from now on since that time I dragged her to Hooters, remember?” Sylvain said.

“Oh, that’s right, another case of you being an idiot.”

“Hey, I think that’s a perfectly reasonable place to celebrate your female friend coming out as bi.”

“As if you need an excuse to ogle women.”

“Can you two be quiet for three minutes?” Ingrid called as she handed the cashier a wad of dollars.

“No,” Sylvain said just as Felix said “HE can’t.” 

“Aw, Jinx, Fe!” Sylvain said.

“We didn’t even say the same thing.”

Claude shook his head and laughed. “They haven’t changed a bit.”

“Is that so?” Dimitri asked. Claude turned to look at him as he spoke and found that he was, unfortunately, still hot. “Sylvain mentioned something about you knowing us from past lives, but I couldn’t quite make heads or tails of it.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve known you guys since I was seventeen. I’m eight hundred fifty-eight this year,” he said.

“Wow. That is... Is your family immortal?”

“Ah, no. I just kind of, y’know, stopped aging? And then never died? Couldn’t tell you why," he said with a shrug.

“That is exceedingly strange,” Dimitri said. “I’d be hard-pressed to believe it, but even Felix seemed convinced you were telling the truth.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t choose to be immortal. Faking your death is such a pain.”

“I would imagine,” Dimitri replied, smiling again.  _ Goddess,  _ why did his smile make Claude’s stomach turn? He felt like he was seventeen all over again.

“Yo, lovebirds! You gonna order or what?” Sylvain called as he and Felix grabbed their cups. Ingrid punched him in the arm and muttered something about being rude, and Dimitri’s face went bright red.

Claude ended up ordering a Nacho Dorito taco, and Dimitri ordered seven cheesy roll-ups. When Claude gave him a questioning look, he gave a sheepish laugh and said “I can’t taste all that well, but I like cheese.”

“No judgement here, man. I was just curious,” he replied.

When they joined the rest of the group at the table, Felix and Sylvain were arguing again - this time, about the correct pronunciation of “gordito,” for some reason. Sylvain insisted it was pronounced “gorditto,” and Felix was on the verge of an aneurysm. Ingrid pointedly ignored them as she sipped her soda and scrolled on her phone. That left Claude and Dimitri to awkwardly stare at one another while they thought up conversation topics.

“What do you do for work?” Claude finally asked, tearing his gaze away from Dimitri's bright blue eyes and focusing on his mouth. 

“I’m an accountant. It’s not a very exciting job, but it is secure. What about you?”

“I teach chemistry at Garreg Mach University. Only a few classes a week, but I enjoy it.”

“Oh, my sister went to Garreg Mach! I’ve heard it’s a wonderful school.”

“I like it enough. It’s got its problems, but every campus does. What about your friends? Sylvain and Felix never actually told me what they do.”

“Felix is a personal trainer. He and Ingrid were both doing pre-law at FNU, but Felix hated it and dropped out. Ingrid’s in law school now, and Sylvain works at a cafe. He has a degree in English, but he can’t find much to do with it. I assume you have a doctorate, if you’re a professor?”

“Yup. A few, actually, but most of ‘em aren’t under my current name. I graduated with my last doctorate a few years ago, and luckily one of the department heads kicked the bucket and left an open spot for me.”

“Fascinating." It really wasn't, but Claude would take the compliment. "Is chemistry your favorite thing you’ve studied?”

“Nah, I think I enjoyed getting my philosophy degree the most. But if you think Sylvain’s English degree is useless, try applying anywhere with a doctorate in philosophy. No one wants you,” he laughed.

"It's a shame when your interests aren't marketable. I quite enjoy the gym myself, but I don't think I could do it as a career like Felix does."

"You could always be a model," Claude said, then immediately hoped it hadn't come out as strong as he thought. At this rate, Dimitri was going to think he was a floozy by the end of the night.

Dimitri, for his part, just blushed. "Oh, I don't think I'd be comfortable doing that."

Claude was saved from the conversation when a worker called out his name. He grabbed his tray from the front and returned to the table, determined to stop flirting at  _ least  _ until they got to the movie theater. 

Before long, everyone had their food, and conversation was forgotten for a moment as everybody devoured their tacos. Dimitri picked up his first cheesy roll-up and practically inhaled it. 

Felix rolled his eyes. "Boar."

Dimitri flushed as he took a sip of his water. "I didn't have much for lunch today. Work was very busy."

"Happens to the best of us," Claude said. "I've graded papers right through lunch before."

"Oh, you're a professor? Where at?" Ingrid asked. 

Claude gestured to his GMU shirt. "Garreg Mach University. That's where I studied."

"I thought you went to FNU?" Sylvain said.

"I did, a hundred years ago."

"Oh, right. Immortal."

"I am curious about that," Ingrid said. "Do you have any proof of your immortality?"

"Well, if I do, I usually try to get rid of it. It's rather inconvenient if people know you're immortal."

"He knew about Miklan," Sylvain offered.

"Alright. What do you know about me?" asked Ingrid.

Claude wasn't sure what aspects of Ingrid's life held true here, so he took a stab in the dark. "Did you used to have a crush on his brother?" he asked, pointing at Felix.

Ingrid nearly choked on her taco. "What? No!"

"She totally did!" Sylvain nearly doubled over in laughter. "She mooned over him for  _ years _ ."

"I did not!" Ingrid yelled.

Felix simply scowled. "So that's always been a thing?"

"They were engaged in our first lives, actually," Claude said.

"Engaged? Oh, my," Dimitri said.

"We were?" Ingrid said, head shooting up. That made Sylvain laugh even harder, and Ingrid leaned over to punch him in the arm.

As they all finished up their food and headed back into the parking lot, Sylvain perked up and gave a devious grin. "Hey, Claude? Would you mind driving Dimitri to the theater? There's not as much room in my car, and it'd probably be easier for everyone."

"Oh, there's really no need-" Dimitri began.

"Not a problem!" Claude butt in. "I mean, it takes the same gas either way. As long as you’re okay with it, Dimitri?"

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he finally murmured.

“Great! See you guys there!” Sylvain called, hopping in his car. Felix and Ingrid had a short scuffle over the front seat (which Ingrid won) before they drove off.

Claude climbed in the driver’s seat and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. Dimitri got in gingerly, as if he was afraid of tearing up the worn polyester seat.

“You’re not gonna hurt anything. Hilda’s a tough old thing,” Claude said.

“Your car’s name is Hilda?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh, yeah. Named it that after my friend Hilda spilled an Icee in it the day I drove it off the lot,” he said. Dimitri smiled as he clicked in his seatbelt.

Claude fiddled with the radio for a moment, connecting it to his phone and putting his playlist on shuffle.  _ Dead!  _ by My Chemical Romance came on, and Dimitri sat up. “Oh, I think Felix listens to this band.”

“Of course he does,” Claude said. “They’re not my favorite or anything, but I listen to a bit of everything.” He bobbed his head to Gerard Way’s shouting as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Do you listen to music?”

“Oh, not really. I just listen to whatever my friends do. Although I do like to listen to some instrumental things on occasion. My, um, therapist said it could help me destress.” He turned to look out the window as he said this, clearly not comfortable with the subject.

“Oh yeah, I listen to a bit of lo-fi stuff too,” Claude said. Instinct told him to push the therapist comment, find out exactly how similar this Dimitri was to his Dimitri, but he knew he was better than that. Eight hundred years had taught him when things weren’t really his business.

In Claude’s opinion, mental healthcare ranked right up there with the internet and indoor plumbing on humanity’s best developments. Unfortunately, since a lot of his issues had their roots in the 1100s, a therapist was out of the question for him. Sorting out a lifetime of internalized issues was hard enough, and he doubted any one person could handle his ten lifetimes of them. So he resigned himself to getting hammered and complaining to Byleth on the weekends. Not quite the same as therapy, but Byleth was a good listener.

Claude pulled into the movie theater parking lot and looked around for Sylvain’s Bug, but he didn’t see it. Strange, since the lot was mostly empty. “Can’t believe we beat him here. I was going the speed limit,” he said as he parked near the entrance.

“That is odd,” Dimitri said. “Especially since I know Sylvain was probably speeding.”

Claude waited a few minutes, and when there was still no sign of Sylvain, he pulled out his phone and sent a text.  _ Are you here? _

His phone pinged a few moments later.  _ ingrid just threw up all over my csr. gotta take her home, will probbly be late. u guys go ajead tho  _

“Well, if I’m reading this right through the typos, Ingrid threw up in Sylvain’s car.”

“Oh no! Is she alright?” Dimitri asked. 

“Dunno, I’ll ask. He said he’ll be late, so we should go ahead and get seats,” he said while sending a follow-up text.  _ Ingrid okay? _

_ fine, she sasy her stomach has been hurting today. probabl koldkjhv _

_ Uh, what?  _

_ sorry, had to swevre for a dog _

_ Are you texting and driving, dude? Just give Felix the phone. _

_ its fine i know what im doing _

Claude shook his head, putting his phone in his pocket. Probably best to leave that alone for now. “He says Ingrid’s stomach has been hurting, probably nothing serious. We can skip the movie and go check on her if you’re worried, though.”

Dimitri thought for a moment. “No, she’s probably fine. She often has stomach problems. And if Felix and Sylvain are still coming to see the movie, we can save them seats.”

“Sounds good,” Claude said, turning off his Jeep. The two climbed out and joined the queue, buying two tickets for the samurai movie Sylvain had picked out. The smell of popcorn hit Claude as soon as they stepped in the building, and his mouth watered. “Wanna get popcorn?” he asked Dimitri.

“We just ate?”

“Yeah, but it’s the movies. You gotta get popcorn. It’s like, a law.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Dimitri conceded with a small chuckle. “Would you be okay getting it with extra butter?”

Claude gave a dramatic gasp and clasped a hand to his chest. “A man after my own heart.”

“That’s the only way I can really taste it,” Dimitri replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, right. I’m just a slut for butter. A slutter for the butter. Nope, that’s stupid, I’m not gonna say that again.” Dimitri laughed again, and the two joined the concessions line. 

“Oh, do you want a drink? We can just get the couple’s special,” Claude said.

“Couple’s special?” Dimitri said, eyes widening. Oh, this humongous dork.

“That’s just what it’s called. It’s cheaper than buying our drinks individually. Hilda and I get it all the time.”

“Oh, okay then. How much is it?” Dimitri asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Nope, I got it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can pay.”

“Dimitri, when you’ve had eight hundred years to invest your money, I’ll let you buy the popcorn.”

Dimitri put his hands on his hips and squinted. He had no right to look that cute while glaring at him like a sixty year old woman. “Are you playing the immortal card to buy popcorn?”

“You betcha.”

“Alright, fine. But I will be paying next time.”

“Ooh, there’s gonna be a next time?” Claude said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Well, I assume Sylvain will invite you out with us again.”

Alright, so that hint fell completely flat. Why did Claude only come off as flirtatious when he wasn’t trying to flirt?

A few minutes later, Claude and Dimitri were settling into their seats, popcorn and drinks in hand. The theater was pretty empty - this movie had come out a few weeks ago, and it hadn’t been super popular even then. Claude and Dimitri munched on their popcorn as they watched previews for crappy movies with B-list actors.

The popcorn was halfway gone by the time the movie started - mostly Claude’s doing. He took a sip of soda as he watched the movie set up the samurai’s backstory. His wife had been murdered, of course, because everyone knows badass men have to have dead wives. They were forty minutes into the movie and halfway through the second fight scene when Dimitri leaned over and asked, “What happened to his wife?”

Claude looked at Dimitri and blinked a few times. “She… died? That guy’s boss killed her, remember?.”

“Oh, that was her grave at the beginning? They didn’t really specify.”

“That’s, like, an integral part of this movie.”

“I’m not always the best at keeping up with movies,” Dimitri said, embarrassment clear in his voice.

“No worries, it happens. I’m just amazed you didn’t ask me about that sooner.”

“Felix gets annoyed when I ask a lot of questions, so I usually save them.”

“Ah. Understood.”

Dimitri ended up asking Claude a lot more questions after that. Claude wasn’t sure where he’d been during the entire opening sequence, but it turns out he didn’t even know the main character’s name. Claude didn’t mind, though. Especially since Claude was trying not to squeal like a high-school girl when Dimitri absentmindedly set his hand on top of his during the final scene.

Sylvain and Felix never showed up, but Claude decided that wasn’t the worst thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: This is a serious AU. Serious things are going to happen.  
> Also me: Hee hoo Hilda plays Overwatch
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry this took so long to come out, finals kicked my butt. This chapter's mostly fluff and humor, but don't you worry, the angst is on its way. (Although it probably won't be the angstiest thing I write, I'm having way too much fun with my modern headcanons.) I feel like Dimitri is a bit OOC, but I'm going to blame that on him being thrice-incarnated Dimitri. Also, I like writing giant dorks.
> 
> A few fun facts: my friend actually has a Jeep named Hilda, and I gave Sylvain an English degree for the sole purpose of making him suffer with me.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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